


(Epilogue) The In-Between Railroad

by Accidentallytechohazardous



Series: Witch AU [6]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Soul Bond, Witch AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 11:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14670396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidentallytechohazardous/pseuds/Accidentallytechohazardous
Summary: One year after the Shuuhei, Izuru, Rangiku and the Witches skip town. One year on the road. One year into the search for the lost members of the Coven leads them into unknown territory of gods and monsters.The mystery and the drama may be over, but the adventure still keeps happening!





	(Epilogue) The In-Between Railroad

**Author's Note:**

> _Then rang the bells both loud and deep. God is not dead nor doth he sleep._

The bumping and bouncing train wheels underneath Shuuhei all day and all night long can be pretty disorienting. He falls asleep to the rhythemic pulsing as if he were lying on top of an enormous beating heart. When Shuuhei does wake up, it’s to the harsh noise of a train whistle tearing through his sleeping thoughts.  

It’s daytime again. A new morning and a new place.

He wakes up on the too-small bed, fishing tiny down feathers like toothpicks from between his crooked maw, and they flutter around his lap. Shuuhei watches one float down, like powder snow, onto Renji’s still chest, sleeping soundly beside Shuuhei.

It is still odd, in some ways, for Shuuhei to look over and see Renji so close. In the days before, there was always this invisible barrier between them, despite the fact that they shared everything including a soul. Shuuhei puts his hand to his own breast and imagines he can feel the fragment of Renji’s soul beating inside him, grounding him into this human-ish form and pulling them together, despite everything.

Renji is a lot more bearable this way, at his side and honest. Shuuhei hardly finds him annoying at all, if you take away the fact that sharing a bed with him is like cuddling up with a whole, entire, furnace. And the furnace likes to snuggle in 80 degrees, and the furnace has these long-ass legs that need to be pinned down or else they kick you in your sleep.

Regardless.

Shuuhei softly brushes strands of long, bright red hair out of Renji’s face. His full lips are parted, just barely moving underneath the intensity of Shuuhei’s rapt attention. There’s some dark energy emanating off of Renji’s black, swirling tattoos, like a glowing and fluorescent sea creature at the bottom of the ocean floor. Shuuhei wonders who Renji is talking to up there.

Shuuhei gets up on the mattress on his hands and knees and spider-crawls his way over Renji’s body to get to the floor, fishing his sweatpants out of the suitcase he’s been living out of for about a year and some change.

It’s been a good minute since Shuuhei cleaned out their train compartment, he makes a mental note to hassle Renji and Izuru to use their fun, zany reality-altering powers to tidy up all their shit. Speaking of which…

Shuuhei trots past the piles and piles of books, the fun artifacts and weird little oddities that they’ve picked up on their adventures. The pieces of paper pinned to the walls, newspaper clippings and maps. At the far end, he opens up the door to the morning light and swirls of color moving too fast for the brain to even comprehend.

 

 

The Witches enchanted train, then Izuru helped out a lot with getting it moving. No train tracks, for one thing, or even a road. The train phases through and around reality, appearing at whatever train station it happens to want to land at. Shuuhei has to admit that it’s a huge upgrade from the old wagon, and it’s actually kind of exciting to wake up in a new county whenever they want.

Shuuhei watches smears of greenery and blue skies pass over his eye. It looks like they’ve passed out of a pocket dimension and got spat out into some meadowy wilderness. Good, the Witches will be pleased. Shuuhei shimmies to the other door compartment, minding the dizzying gap at his feet. Hand on the knob, he turns it until the placard on the door spins until landing on ‘Meal Car’.

“Well, well, well, look who joined the living again.”

“Shuuhei, please! Some decency. No shirt, no shoes, no service.”

Shuuhei covers a toothy yawn that unhinges his jaw, not actually minding Rukia and Rangiku seeing him topless. They’re been cohabitating on this train, Shuuhei has been caught in enough unflattering positions that he’s sure he’ll deal. “Coffee.”

Rangiku smirks, leaning her chin on her tented fingers. “Buddy, do I look like a waitress to you?” She has no makeup on, hair a mess. Shuuhei thought she would have the most trouble adjusting, since she knew the Witches the least out of anyone. But Shuuhei should have known better than to underestimate Rangiku’s ability to make friends. She seems tired and happy. Especially with Rukia fluttering around behind the counter close by.

The dark-haired Witch sets down a cup of black coffee on the counter. “Here you go, big guy. Breakfast is in half an hour. Don’t be late again, and don’t fill up on raw eggs. We need those for french toast.”

“That was one time…” Shuuhei says, taking the mug and dumping the acidic elixir into his mouth hole. As the cup leaves Rukia’s hands and goes to his, Shuuhei’s eyes catch the frosty blue markings on her palms and wrists.

She looks different than Shuuhei remembers her. Rukia is more serious, more intense. She looks at him with dark and knowing eyes, a mischievous cat-like smile she must have learned from Rangiku. There’s definitely a more mature, leaderly quality about her than Shuuhei ever saw before the Church tried to chew her up “You got a look at the outside, right? It’s very green. That’s good.”

“You really think your foster parents are living alone in the wilderness?” Rangiku asks, kicking her feet a little on the bar stool.

Rukia nods. “It’s what they always taught us– hiding, getting in tune with forces of the natural world at its most secretive and mysterious. Look,”

The petite woman lays her hands down flat on the countertop, spreading her fingers out over clean linoleum. There, on the surface of the counter, white frost spreads out over the gray, curling and spreading in lines of perfect, shimmering ice. It’s a map, with moving, curly line snaking its way over the hillside, which Shuuhei figures must be the train.

“These are the places that we’ve already been,” Rukia taps a series of white X’s on the map with her nail.

“The place where we’re heading is pretty dense wilderness, I’ve marked some places of magical or godly interest for us to check out. Kenpachi and Unohana are both still wanted for kidnapping charges by the authorities, so they’re going to stay away from non-magical civilization. They’ll want to find magically powerful places where they can commune with their patrons, but probably avoid sorcerers or warlocks who consider that their territory. Furthermore, I don’t think they’ll be living together. The Coven was what kept Unohana and Kenpachi united as our leaders, but I have a hard time imaging their personalities working together without us.”

“That’s quite a profile.” Shuuhei sips his coffee, “It kida sounds kind of like you’re hunting down some dangerous wild animals. We’re not gonna need to sleep in the woods and track them through their scat, are we?”

Rangiku’s nose wrinkles. “Shuuhei, it’s 11 in the morning.”

“I mean, we basically are tracking them.” Rukia shrugs, brushing her choppy bangs behind her hair. “Until Isane bonds with the Blood-Mother Ocean Goddess, Unohana’s the only one who can find new Witchlings who might need our help.”

“What about Kenpachi?”

“Well. Mostly I think people just miss him.”

“I can’t believe my life is a series of fetch quests.” Shuuhei says. As if that doesn’t describe everyone’s life ever, he guesses. It’s not that he minds, anyways. A wild road trip across the country side actually sounds like fun, surprisingly. “Did you talk to Izuru about this? Maybe his sources can tell him something useful.”

“A little bit. But, you know, the Dark Ones are pretty good at hiding from the New Gods. Izuru knows that better than anybody.” Rukia slides her palm over the diner counter, clearing away her map. “He said he was going to think about it, though. I believe he mentioned he was going to go meditate in the observatory.”

Shuuhei mulls this over; he doesn’t remember Izuru mentioning meditation having anything to do with his powers. If anything, his visions just seemed to add more chaotic white noise to his head, and had to be teased apart and detangled before they added up to anything useful.

“I know he was wandering around before Renji or I woke up. Maybe I oughta see what he’s up to.” Shuuhei picks up his mug and begins to shuffle towards the next door at the end of the car. The two women watch him depart before Rangiku calls after him.

“Remember you and me have training at noon. Momo wants to learn boxing in exchange for reading my fortune, so I need you to be our punching bag.”  She says, as if Rangiku has any need to have her destiny predicted for her. Or would even abide by what it said.

 

* * *

 

 

Shuuhei steps out of the train car, bracing the wind once more and turning the knob to the observatory. His free hand covers the rim of his coffee cup as he steps through and into the next car.

Witches love plants. If someone said Shuuhei, what gift should I get a Witch, he would definitely tell them to get plants for that Witch. Witches love plants.

The observatory car resembles something of a long, glass tube that has been made into a sitting room/green house. Rows of plastic seats sit in the middle of a mossy stone walkway so Shuuhei can walk around barefooted like the heathen he is without getting mud from the gardens on his feet.

Green tendrils crawl up the seats and the glass walls of the enclosure. The interior is hot and humid and smells like warm dirt. And, of course, the transparent walls gives one a clear view of the exterior of the train’s liminal interior. Out these windows, Shuuhei can see a clear blue sky overhead and the white eye of the Sun desperately tracking their progress overhead.

Izuru is sitting in one of the chairs, staring out the window with this vacant, distant expression with his hands holding each other in his lap. The sight of him sitting alone rather reminds Shuuhei of his first ever encounter with the Prophet, when he poofed into his life. Not knowing exactly what Izuru was, or even the huge role he had already participated in Shuuhei’s life.

Of course, he’s different now. Instead of being dressed in black robes, skulking in the shadows, Izuru’s sits in the Sunshine, light catching off of his flaxen hair. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and Shuuhei can see the rings and patterns of blue on his hands that snake up the length of his arms. The Inhuman approaches and stands over Izuru without the latter giving any indication he knows Shuuhei is there.

Grunting at being forced to bend his knees, Shuuhei sits down next to Izuru. Sometimes he forgets he’s the oldest person on this train, what with his monster aging and whatever. He spends a minute just watching the world go by with Izuru, tapping his feet against the cold stone underneath them.

Izuru starts speaking suddenly, making Shuuhei jump next to him. “You didn’t need to come looking for me. I’m sorry if my wandering off made you worried.”

“I wasn’t worried. I just wanted to see what you were up to.” Shuuhei says. He can relax again, leaning back in his stiff plastic seat and setting his hands on his knees. “So, meditation, huh? Did you pick up on this from Isane or one of the others.”

“She showed me some basics to practice.” The blond nods, brows furrowing thoughtfully. “The way I was taught to be a Prophet was very much about… forcing my abilities to get them to work. I had to push myself in ways that sometimes made using my powers very frightening and even very painful. Figuring out how to access my powers without hurting myself is something I’m still learning how to do.”

Shuuhei listens patiently, and keeps his comments about that being very on-brand for Izuru’s history to himself. It seems the root of Izuru’s problems always come back to that martyr complex, his desire to do everything himself. Even at a steep cost.

But Izuru wants to learn newer, calmer, safer ways to use his powers. That’s something that the Church and it’s agents probably never planned on. They never imagined the day that Izuru would want something for himself.

Izuru raises his blue-tipped fingers, crooked at the knuckles, as if he could catch and see some idea fluttering inside. “That was how all priests were, but Witches are so different. Their powers have always come from some kind of relationship with the natural world, a relationship that borders on affection. As a child, I was fascinated with it. I guess I still am.”

“I’m not a Prophet anymore, but at this point I don’t think I’m fully human either. I’m something else.”

“You think you’re Inhuman,” Shuuhei suggests. “Like me?”

A thin smile takes over Izuru’s lips. “I don’t know if that’s exactly it, but maybe. I guess you and I are the same. We both had very interesting destinies.”

“I don’t know if destiny had much to do with it. Most of my life has just been weird coincidence and freak accidents.” Shuuhei admits, but Izuru shakes his head.

“Oh, Shuuhei. You’re not an accident. You’re a very powerful being.”

Izuru’s finger taps a space between Shuuhei’s collarbones, his skin brushing cold, dark metal.

There, on a leather cord, is the trinket that Shuuhei found in the catacombs. The one that chose him and saved him, the emblem of the God of Death.

“Hmm.” Shuuhei tries to sound like he has an opinion on why he kept the artifact, the twin crescents that spun rapidly when he held it and watches gravity pull. Like he has some kind of process or a voice in his head telling him about his fate or whatever.

But honestly? Shuuhei just likes it. He likes the necklace, feels something familiar pulling him towards it. And he’s done stupider shit for less than steal some definitely cursed piece of jewelry that he plundered from a mass grave.

Speaking of odd feelings Shuuhei gets that probably indicate something meaningful in his psyche, Shuuhei feels a familiar pull in his chest. Like a string in his core is being pulled. “Renji is on his way.”

“What?” Izuru says, looking over at the door the very second that Renji busts in, cursing and stumbling over the gaps between cars.

“Fucking walking hazard… somebody’s gonna break their damn ankle one’a these days, why did we think this would be a good idea?” Renji brushes long curtains of red hair over his shoulder and balances a tray against his propped hip. He’s also still in his pajamas, Shuuhei is sure that he and Renji look exactly the same degree of Just Rolled Out of Bed.

Renji struts over and places the tray squarely in Shuuhei’s lap, the smell of freshly made french toast and bacon slapping him in the face and making him salivate between his fangs. “Rukia an’ Rangiku said you two were probably necking out here, so I grabbed y’all some breakfast.”

“Oh, thanks.” Shuuhei says coolly, resisting the urge to upend the entire tray into his cavernous maw all at once. “You didn’t need to do that, we were just chatting and spacing out.”

“‘S cool. I’m trying this new thing called ‘being nice’.” Renji plops himself down on Shuuhei’s other side, looking surprisingly sunny for having just woken up and cursing out their train mere moments before. “I’m trying to be more nice.”

Shuuhei tries and fails to not be endeared by the sincere way Renji says that. There’s such conviction behind his words, too. The last time Shuuhei remembers Renji being so affectionate and touchy-feely with him was, Shuuhei thinks, when he first became Renji’s familiar and their souls were bonded. That honeymoon period before Renji got weird and distant and prickly.

And now? Well, Shuuhei supposes it must help that Renji isn’t trying to hide his feelings for Shuuhei, stewing himself in guilt over his attraction. That he isn’t tormented by the anger and the hurt of Izuru’s betrayal. But more than that, Renji has a purpose now– to unite his foster family. Shuuhei feels a brutal stab of fondness for his Witch, like he’s being shanked with love.

“Renji, you are nice.” Izuru says what Shuuhei was thinking, sounding like he intends to argue his point.

The redhead just shrugs, and inelegantly shoves a piece of french toast into his mouth wisely before Shuuhei has the chance to inhale the entire plate. “Eh. So did you hear Rukia’s plan for our search? We’re gonna hit up all these locations and collect clues. Get ourselves some magnifying glasses and silly, floppy hats.”

Shuuhei wants to sigh, though he’s not sure it’s from exasperation or from relief. He thinks about his old house on that hill, the place where he grew up and died decades ago. He thinks about the bog where he and Renji lived in a wagon and freelanced to get by.

He thinks about the daunting towers of the Cathedral and the musty, threatening drop into the catacombs beneath them. It feels like he spent an eternity knowing those places as well as he did the people that he found there, and in some ways he’ll be sad to leave them behind. It will be like letting go of old friends that he outgrew.

Ha. Outgrew. Did Shuuhei really grow from those experiences, or is he just older and dumber in new and different ways? Maybe there isn’t really a distinction between those two things.

“And I bet there will be tons of monsters and magic shenanigans along the way, right?” Shuuhei guesses, earning a broad grin from Renji.

“Oh, almost certainly.”

“Perhaps an uncountable degree of danger at every turn?” Izuru tacks on to the building enthusiasm.

“You know it! Are you ready for some more adventure?”

“Of course.”


End file.
